Let's Get Rocked
by TheResurrectionist
Summary: Wincest AU! Sam Winchester gets a new job as a science teacher at Shurley High School, but reigning school favorite and devilishly handsome Dean Smith might end up being the death of him. As the tension rises, even the students start to notice, and it becomes the competition to end all bets as the teachers face off in a school full of Novaks. Rated T, updated regularly.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N **Another Wincest AU plot bunny that twitched its nose at me.:) Please let me know if I should continue!

Devoted to my loving, patient beta angelicaldevil, and to LeeMarieJack.

**Reviews are love!**

* * *

It was Sam's first day teaching. It was also ninety degrees at eight in the morning, his coffee was close to spilling on his only pair of clean dress pants, and his parking spot was already taken.

It'd been three weeks since he'd gotten the phone call that would change the rest of his life. Or, at least, his diet of cheap turkey hot dogs. The recession wasn't great. Which is why he was sitting outside of Shurley High School, about to put his unused teaching degree to a test.

Sam eventually managed to find somewhere else to park, which was a miracle in and of itself, but the small bump in his morning jittered his already frazzled nerves. Every job offer ended the same way:_ You're too young, kid. _He had a teaching degree, for God's sake.

The walk up the prestigious sidewalks, past the high fences reminded Sam briefly of how little he knew of the school. A bell rang, and even though he knew he wasn't late, he rushed into the school building, sheepishly ignoring the predatory looks some of the kids were giving him. It was like they could smell new prey.

Sam took a moment to breathe as air conditioning his hit skin, blessedly cold. The office was to his left. He could do this.

"_Hi_, Mr. Winchester!" A blonde woman grabbed him by the arm, pulling him into an office to the side. She manhandled him effortlessly towards a chair, her smile splitting her face.

"Please, come in. Can I call you _Sam_?" She gushed, her hands brushing his chest, moving precariously towards his lower back.

He blinked at the overly pink office, choosing the stuffed red futon over the pink one and brushing beads out of his face. It looked like a womb.

"Yes. Please. It's nice to meet you, uh," He glanced at her desk, seeing the nametag. "Mrs. Shurley."

"Call me Becky!" The woman said energetically, reaching across the table to shake his hand. She held on just a little too long.

"Uh, Becky can you-"

She ignored his protests, hand circling his wrist. "It's _so _nice to meet you. I can't believe we have a new teacher already! Oh, we're going to have so much _fun_!"

Sam tried to nod along, lost in the amount of words spewing from the woman's mouth and mild sexual harassment that was occurring. "So, I was told to ask for my papers and key here, and-"

"Oh! Those. I've got everything figured out for you right here. That's silly old me, Becky the Secretary." She barely paused, shuffling papers madly with her other hand. "_Beckretary_! That should be my name. Becky, plus 'secretary'…Oh, darn. Where the heck did I put those papers?"

Sam smiled again, painfully aware that this was nothing like what he had been expecting. She eventually found them, shoving a mess of files and a single key in his face.

"Your room is third from the left past the second floor stairwell. Take the east corridor and you'll make it there in less time. Oh, and avoid the elevators!" A phone went off next to her arm, startling the woman. She put a hand to her chest, and then Sam's, who tried to back away.

"Call me if you need anything, okay? _Anything_." Her hand tickled his neck. "Good luck! Staff meeting's in a few minutes upstairs in the lounge!"

Sam, too confused to argue, was unceremoniously shoved from the office, finding himself in an unfamiliar hallway with no discernible features. He checked his watch, feeling panic beginning to bubble as the minutes ticked away. Overall, he had about twenty minutes to get to his room and set up before the staff meeting. The kids started arriving at nine.

No pressure.

He stumbled up the correct stairway, trying to read all the paperwork he probably should've gotten weeks ago while simultaneously walking the right direction. He found his room quickly enough, a medium-sized room in the science wing with old tables and posters scattered around the room. He set his stuff down on the desk, shuffled his first-day lesson plan one last time, and ventured out into the hallway to find the staff lounge.

"Hey, newbie!"

Sam stumbled slightly at the call, turning around to find a short, caramel-haired man behind him. He blinked.

"..Yeah?"

"Oh, that actually worked," the man chortled, amber eyes glowing in amusement. "You really are new, aren't you?"

"Who are you?" Sam tried his best to muster a glare, but fell short of intimidating as the man continued to laugh at him. "Stop laughing!"

The man held up his hands, walking a few paces closer (slowly, like Sam was a spooked animal). "Hey kid, I'm not making fun. You the new science teacher?"

"Yeah," Sam said, glancing down at his sweater-and-a-dress-shirt and shoulder briefcase. Was it that obvious?

"Look, my name's Gabriel. Gabriel Novak," the man clarified, reaching a hand forward. Sam shook it quickly. "I'm the history teacher."

"I-"

"You're Sam, right?" Gabriel cut him off. "Heard lots of good things from you in management, which is good. Damn school hasn't had a new teacher since...I dunno, 2003?"

"2003." He shook his head. "Why?"

Gabriel just smirked. "I think Raphy likes the status quo too much."

"'Raphy'?"

"Sorry. _Dr._ Raphael Novak. Vice Principal, and my douche nozzle of a cousin."

Sam's eyebrows shot waaay up. "You're cousins with the _vice principal_?"

"No need to act so shocked," Gabriel grinned, wolfish. "We're all a tight bunch here...like family."

"Which is why you're checking in on me."

Novak clicked his tongue. "Smart, Sammy-boy. Let's go find that staff meeting, huh?"

"How do you-" Sam sputtered. The other man just stuck his tongue out, pointing towards the end of the hallway.

"Staff meeting's this way," Gabriel raised an eyebrow, hazel eyes taunting him. "Unless you had somewhere else to be, Sammy?"

"Don't call me that."

The other man grinned. "Sure thing, Sammy-boy."

* * *

The staff room was a nice, surprisingly open space towards the back of the cafeteria with a bunch of chairs and tables haphazardly thrown around. Sam decided immediately that he liked it, following Gabriel's lead towards one of the empty tables.

A bunch of other teachers eventually filed in, sending their table a few questioning glances before greeting their colleagues. A happy murmur of chatter settled over the room, which only made Sam more nervous. Being the new teacher in a room full of old friends really sucked.

"So, Sam-O, where are you from?' Gabriel asked after an awkward pause.

"Kansas,"

The other man looked vaguely impressed. "So you grew up with, like, cows and shit."

Sam raised an eyebrow, "I come from Kansas and that automatically means I grew up on a farm?"

Gabriel held up his hands in a defensive gesture. "Hey hey hey. No need to get mad. Educate my poor, stereotyping self. I'm bored."

Sam leaned back in his chair, watching as a few more teachers made their way inside the room. "No, I didn't grow up on a farm." _I went to Stanford_ he thinks.

"So-"

"Gabriel, darling. _What are_ you wearing?"

The other man was cut off by a tall, blonde man wearing an alarmingly low v-neck traipsed over and shook his finger at the smaller man.

"Balthy," Gabriel smirked, sliding back into his seat in a way that was supposed to be sleazy. He looked like he was gonna fall off the chair. "You know better than to criticize your superiors on their fashion sense."

'Balthy' looked mildly affronted. "I will when everyone sees your feet. If you're wearing socks with sandals again I'm going to puke." The blonde man tutted, revealing a clipped accent as he sat next to the other man. His eyes fell on Sam, who resisted the urge to glance at Gabriel's footwear.

"Oh _my_. Who's this?"

Gabriel sat up in his seat, grinning wide. "Balthazar, meet Sam Winchester, our new science teacher extraordinaire. Sam, meet Balthazar, French teacher and the biggest pain in my ass."

"Fuck you," Balthazar said conversationally, reaching forward to shake Sam's hand. "Darling, don't listen to him. I'm a lot more fun, I promise."

"Nice to meet you," Sam managed not to stutter as the other man practically leered at him. "Uh, so when's this thing supposed to start?"

"Any minute now," Balthazar sighed. "I fucking hate meetings. If I wasn't scared of Becky whipping my ass with a cane, I wouldn't come at all."

"Oh I'm sure you'd be coming," Gabriel quipped with a grin, but he had an air of impatience as well. He pointed at Sam.

"First rule of school, kid. Don't piss off the boss's wife, or you're in for a world of hurt. Hell of a woman. And don't let the lunchladies spit in your food."

Sam shuddered, remembering Becky's over-enthusiastic groping earlier. "So she's, uh, married to the principal?"

"Yep. Not like we've seen him in a while, though." Balthazar pointed out. "She could be lying."

That was strange. Sam frowned.

"Principal Shurley doesn't come to these meetings?"

Gabriel looked at him once, almost pityingly. "Nah. Kinda a deadbeat dad type, if you ask me. Long as my paycheck keeps coming, I ain't gonna mess with the big man's business." Balthazar was nodding along with the other man.

"So who runs the school, then?" Sam asked, panicked thoughts tripping through his head. Of course he got hired by the dysfunctional school, with the sketchy principal, and-

"Look, kid, go get some coffee or something," Balthazar's hand hit his shoulder with a thud, fingers curling into his dress shirt. "Go calm down before the meeting starts, or you won't be able to do shit for the rest of the day. Coffee's over there."

Sam nodded numbly, pushing down all the irrational fear that had cropped up next to his general new-school new-job nerves. He barely registered the chair under his hand as he stumbled in the general direction Balthazar had been pointing, even though the last thing he needed was more coffee.

Balthazar. Even the guy's name was sketchy-sounding. What had he gotten himself into?

He filled up a Styrofoam cup with boiling hot coffee, making a face when he couldn't find sugar or milk. Did the whole school take it black, or were they so off-the-books they couldn't even afford creamer?

Alarm bells should've been ringing when he'd never met the principal throughout the entire interview process. He had just been so desperate to get a job at the time, it didn't really register. He turned around with his crappy coffee and-

Promptly ran into someone's chest.

Sam wasn't stupid. Hot coffee burned people. Hell, he'd read up on that one McDonald's case when he was daydreaming about being a lawyer, when that one lady got boiling coffee poured into her lap and sued for lots and lots of damage. It was the whole reason the company served their coffee cold as all get out. The stuff could get _hot_.

And he'd just poured a whole shitload down someone's shirt.

"Ow. Shit! Fuck!" the person yelled, flinching backwards. Sam caught a flash of green eyes before the man was looking down and scrubbing the coffee off of himself. "What the fuck man?"

"Jesus," Sam grabbed the nearest piece of cloth near him, which unfortunately ended up being his sweater. He dabbed it on the growing brown stain, trying to help. "I am so, so sorry. I didn't see you."

Angry coffee man scrubbed furiously at his shirt, ignoring Sam's sweater efforts, muttering to himself in a gravelly voice. "It's-fuck-fine, whatever. It's fine!"

Sam suddenly realized he'd practically been rubbing the man's chest, quite vigorously, and backed off a little. He looked up slowly, praying he didn't look as absolutely stupid as he thought he did. It's just...the man's chest was very..._firm. _He was turning into Becky.

"The fuck I-come here, coffee, today-" the man was muttering, obviously furious. He still wasn't looking at Sam, probably didn't even care he was there.

"Sorry. Sorry!" Sam squeaked, dropping the coffee soaked sweater as he tried to look the man in the eye. "I am so sorry. I will pay for your dry cleaning, and, uh, medical-" He stopped.

The man's pink lips were still shaping meaningless curses, but Sam didn't care. A chiseled jaw and cheekbones Sam's sister would kill for shaped the man's face, set off by a pair of beautiful, green, _angry_ eyes.

"Just stop," the man growled after a second of staring at Sam's face, scrubbing at his ruined shirt one last time before walking away. Sam stood there like an idiot for a good thirty seconds, feeling like the stupid chick in some flick and hating the humiliation of it.

"I'd get back here if I were you," Gabriel's voice floated over towards him. "He looks really freaking pissed."

"Like that's gonna reassure the kid," Balthazar said, grabbing Sam's wrist none too gently and pulling him back to his seat. "Congratulations. You just made your first enemy."

"And Dean to top it off," Gabriel added from his chair, shaking his head in disbelief. "You sure know how to pick 'em."

Sam put his face in his hands. "Please tell me he isn't someone important," he groaned. Balthazar let out a sharp bark of laughter.

"He's the shop teacher for one, and he knows his way around pretty much everything."

"And that means guns, Sammy-Boy," Gabriel winked. "You're fine. Dean Smith is...well, he's a fighter, definitely not a lover."

"And I just pissed him off," Sam resisted the urge to bang his head on the table. It was some fake linoleum shit, probably wouldn't even bruise him if he tried.

Gabriel looked like he was following Sam's train of thought. "Don't sweat it. Your classrooms are on opposite sides of the building. I'm sure this is the last time you'll see him."

"Really?" Sam looked up, hopeful.

Balthazar snorted. "You are so full of shit."

"Shh, looks like Becky's just coming in," Gabriel shushed the whole room. Sam saw Dean Smith take a seat across the room and resisted the urge to slam his head on the stupid linoleum. Repeatedly. The man was the most gorgeous thing he'd ever seen.

"Hello, everybody!" Becky practically leaped into the room, arms flung wide like a cheerleader's. "Let's get started!"

Sam paid dutiful attention even as his cheeks flamed, recording the dates Becky aimlessly babbled off on a sheet of paper. His heart jumped in his chest as the woman turned her attention towards him, sending him a not-so-subtle wink before opening her mouth.

"Everyone, let's give a large, warm, _happy _welcome to-"

_Oh, god _Sam thought, _Please don't be me. Don't call on me. _

"-our new science teacher, Sam Winchester!"

Dean turned straight towards him, along with every other head in the room.

_Oh shit._

* * *

**A/N **Do you think I should continue? Let me know!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N Thanks to the people who followed, and to LoveIsInTheAir4DL for their review. Here is the next part!

* * *

Becky waved him up towards the stage, grinning wide.

"Come on up here, Sam! Tell us a little about yourself!"

He could feel Dean's glare without even looking at the other man. With a subtle shove from Gabriel (and a not-so-subtle one from Balthazar) he was on his feet and stumbling towards the front of the room.

"Sam is our first new teacher in a while," Becky was saying to the rest of the room as he made his way up. "He's certainly a cute one!"

The whole room chuckled as Sam's cheeks flared beet red. He edged away from Becky, but she only beckoned him closer.

"C'mon. Tell us something about yourself!" she repeated, putting a hand on his shoulder, "The whole room is just _dying _to meet you!"

"My name is, uh, Sam Winchester…" Sam groaned internally, "I'm from Kansas, and I, uh, always wanted to become a teacher."

"And where did you go to school, sweetie?" Becky smiled at him, endearing.

"Stanford," he stuttered out. Eyebrows raised throughout the room.

"Sam Winchester, everybody!" Becky started applauding, gesturing for Sam to sit back down. "Now, students start arriving in-"

Sam ignored whatever Becky said after that, slumping his shoulders as he returned to his seat. Gabriel and Balthazar were looking at him strangely when he sat down.

"You didn't tell us you were a boy wonder, Sammy." Gabriel purred, "Stanford?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Sam hissed in embarrassment, hoping no one in the room was looking at their table.

"Nothing," Balthazar cut in coolly, glancing at Gabriel, "Shut up,"

"You shut up!"

Sam put his head in his hands, realizing distantly that there was coffee staining his palms. It smelled.

His head suddenly shot up, startling the two men.

"I should go apologize to Dean,"

Gabriel looked at him dubiously. "_Hallelu-_-wait. Because it went so well the first time, kid."

"I just—I should try again," Sam stood up. The room was happily distracted, teachers still chattering with each other. "I'm gonna go apologize, and then I'm going to teach my first day of school."

Balthazar looked amused, but that might have been his default setting.

"Kid doesn't even need a pep talk. Well, go forth and all that. Don't come crying when we told you so."

Gabriel clapped him once on the back. "Good luck. You're gonna need it."

* * *

Dean watched the new teacher out of the corner of his eye, shifting in his seat as he realized the man was walking towards him. Winchester unconsciously brushed chestnut hair out of bright, hazel eyes, slumping a little like his 6 foot 4 frame was anything but big.

The hot coffee the kid had poured down his shirt had nothing to do with the fluttering in his chest. He wanted to scream at the attraction he felt towards the other man. He'd just been so…adorable, taking off his sweater to reveal a tanned, firm chest just under that white dress shirt, scrubbing furiously at Dean's chest, an intense look of concentration and mortification gracing his face.

But Dean didn't use words like _adorable_. Ever. Especially not in conjunction with guys.

The kid—Sam—was making his way across the room, obviously on his way over to apologize. For a second, Dean wanted to be the one to ask forgiveness. Maybe they could pretend they'd never met, and he could reintroduce himself as maybe not a complete asshole.

_Yeah, right._

He wasn't—he didn't _go_ that way. For an intense, burning moment, he _hated _the other man, for stirring up all of those old urges. He wasn't—

"Hey, uh, Mr…" The kid stood right in front of him, cheeks slightly pink. "Sir. I am so sorry about the-" he gestured at Dean's still-ruined shirt. "I just wanted to tell you that I apologize profusely, and if there's anything I can do to help, please let me know." He finished with a small, awkward smile, but it was enough to knock Dean's control out of the park.

The kid had goddamn _dimples_.

He kind of wanted to touch them.

Dean shook his head internally. This damn, hotshot, know-it-all kid.

"You wanna joke, go find someone else," he told the other man, scowling. "I'm not playing."

That didn't even make sense. What was he even _saying_? He turned away from Winchester and stood up. He had a class to teach soon.

"Sir-" the kid yelled after him (and that title really killed him) "At least let me pay for the dry cleaning. Please!"

He slammed the door just a little shy of _really hard_.

* * *

"So we have, like, a new teacher?"

"Oh god he's cute."

"What's his _name_?"

"I heard he's from Kansas. Do you think he has an accent?"

"Like, how tall is he?"

"He teaches AP science too? I need to switch into that class, like, _now_."

"He's almost cuter than Mr. Smith."

"Nuh-_uh_. Boy is close, though."

Sam cleared his throat awkwardly, moving to stand in front of his desk. The chatter cut off gradually, as row after row of students turned their attention towards him, some obviously staring, others not.

"Good Morning," Sam said, "My name is Mr. Winchester, and I'll be teaching your first period science class for the semester. If you have any questions, please consult the syllabus first."

He reached behind him and grabbed the stack of papers off the desk, handing some to the front of each row. The students obligingly passed them backwards, whispers forming here and there.

A dark-haired girl in the front row raised her hand almost immediately, so either she was a speed-reader or, most likely, really impatient.

"Yes?"

She leaned forward. "What's your first name, Sir?"

"Sam," He blinked. Was he supposed to tell them that? "Any other questions before we start our first activity?"

Someone popped their gum.

"How old are you?"

Sam ground his teeth at the question. "Twenty,"

The whole class went silent, waiting for the second number. When it didn't come, a dark-haired boy in the back of the class burst out laughing.

"Dude, you can't even _drink_ yet?"

It was going to be a long day.

"Now, we're going to start with the introduction to the animal kingdom lesson-"

* * *

Gabriel found him after the first day concluded, popping into his classroom with a sucker in one hand and a bag of Hershey's chocolate in the other. After a short sigh, he held both out to Sam.

"Here. For making it through the first day."

Sam made a face at all the sugar, turning to stack his first batch of papers. "Uh...no thank you."

"More for me, then." Gabriel shoved the sucker into his mouth, popping it obscenely with his lips. He sat down on Sam's desk chair, spinning it once with a booted heel.

"So, you make any headway with butch-and-repressed?"

"_Who_?"

The other man rolled his eyes, stopping his spin. "Dean, dumbass. How did your apology go?"

"Oh! Well…." Sam cleared his throat, pausing his filing efforts. "It didn't. I mean, I tried, but it's like he hates me all of a sudden. I don't really know what to do."

He remembered the glare Dean had sent him when he'd walked up, like he'd shot his favorite puppy and then rain danced in the bloody pieces or something. Maybe that was the exhaustion talking.

"Well, like I said before, it's not like you two are gonna cross paths very often," Gabriel said lightly. "However…"

"What?"

The other man put on a very sincere pair of puppy eyes.

"I kind of have something important to ask you."

That didn't sound ominous at all.

"Yeah?"

"Sammy, I'm glad you asked," Gabriel perked up instantly, a grin crossing his face. "Next week Tuesday marks the 6th annual dodge ball competition, and-"

"No. No no no no no." Sam put a stop to that immediately. "Whatever it is, no. I don't—I can't. No."

Gabriel practically pouted at him. "But you're _built _for this kind of thing! Look at you! Do you think anyone's gonna challenge the team with gigantor on their side?"

Sam rubbed the skin between his eyebrows. "So why me?"

"Every year, the school has four teams go up against each other for the tournament trophy. Usually, those teams are Me, Anna's team, Balthazar's team, and Dean's team."

Sam's blood froze.

"However, Anna's out on maternity leave, so her team is null. We need another team captain, and the only person suited for the job is you."

"This is my first day on the job!"

Gabriel winked. "Which is why you should do it! No one's expecting the newbie to join. And I know you didn't get those muscles just from reading textbooks. You'll be good competition."

And Dean would be there. Possibly in gym shorts.

"And yes, Dean's gonna be there too," Gabriel said, coming scary close to reading his mind. "Look, if he isn't gonna take an apology, the least you can do is win his respect. C'mon."

Sam sighed, considering. And then sighed some more.

"You should've been a lawyer. Anyone ever tell you that?"

Gabriel grinned, showing off white, straight teeth. "I know. I'm tricky. You in?"

Sam shuffled a few papers halfheartedly, then said _screw it_.

"Sure. Why not."

* * *

A/N Reviews are love! And I love you!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N For slytherinshadowhunter67, to whom I have held my promise of updating.

* * *

Sam glanced at the bench in the men's locker room, biting his lip. "Are you really really sure about this?"

Gabriel laughed, tying off his red short shorts with a flourish. "I'm never sure about anything, Sam-O. Just put the damn shorts on."

"They're _red_."

"And they're the antithesis of modern fashion, yada yada yada. Just put them on. Do you know how long I had to look for Sasquatch shorts?" The shorter man trailed off, mouth twisted. "I need that trophy."

Sam sighed, grabbing the shorts. "You have your own team, Gabe."

"Yeah, but if we flunk out, we can rotate into your team. Balthy rotates into Dean's and he always gets his ass kicked anyways."

He finished putting the shorts on as the other man spoke, tucking his white t-shirt into them. "I look ridiculous. None of the kids are gonna take me seriously."

Gabriel took a few steps backwards, surveying him. He whistled. "You look hot, Winchester."

"Let's just go," Sam shook his head, vainly wishing he'd turned down the other man. "So it's just basic dodgeball? Hit and you're out, catch it and they're out, first team without players loses?"

Gabriel patted him on the shoulder as they entered the gym. "If it makes you feel better to think that, then go ahead."

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked, before being absolutely blinded by the lights of the gym. He covered his face as a beam hit him straight in the eyes, groaning. "Gabe!"

"Sorry, Winchester." The other man pushed him to the left, though gentle. "Go kick ass with your team. Anna taught them well."

Sam rubbed his eyes, surprised to see himself standing in front of what looked like a dozen teenagers, all of them dressed like him. The variety seemed to be key; there were the hulking football players to the right, a couple athletic-looking skinny kids beneath them, and a couple small teens with sharp eyes to the left. He swallowed once, glancing over at the other teams.

The gym was full, filled to the max with bleachers that didn't have a seat open. A microphone was being shouted into across the space. Sam swore he saw the vice principal standing by the door. What the hell had he gotten himself into?

"Uh. hey," he said to the silent, waiting teenagers. "I'm Sam. I'm taking over for Anna."

"You got a strategy?" Some kid in the front asked, one of the sharp-eyed teens who looked like he'd tear Sam apart in chess. "Please tell me you have one."

"I'm new," Sam admitted. "Someone lay down the rules for me, I swear I'll try and help."

"First things first; you're allowed to hit as hard as you want," one of the football kids chimed in. "They made us sign waivers and everything."

Sam got a vision of kids flying backwards and grimaced. "Okay."

"Caught balls are outs, so is getting hit anywhere on your body. There are six refs," the kids pointed them out. Becky was one of them, to Sam's utter delight, dancing around in her white and black striped shirt. She waved to him and he pretended not to see, ducking his head. "And don't piss off Team Smith, whatever you do."

"Dean?" Sam asked, though a voice in the back of his head was already saying _too late_. "Why?"

"They've won every year, and if they think you have a chance, he tells them to throw the balls at our heads."

Sam frowned. Behind him, the man on the microphone began yelling introductions. "Who're we playing first?"

A girl at the front looked at him. "Mr. Balthazar."

"Okay. Okay." Sam rubbed his hands together, glancing at the line of red dodgeballs in the center of the gym. "Here's what we're going to do. Line up seven in the middle, tall short, tall short alternating. People in front of them should be quick. When the whistle blows, the quickest ones run and grab the balls."

A guy at the back wrinkled his nose. "That's an awful strategy."

"Well, that's what I've got." Sam heard his name being yelled over the microphone and grimaced. "Alright, hands in."

"Hands in?"

"This isn't high school musical."

Sam glared at them. "Hands in."

Everyone quickly acquiesced, placing their hands in the middle. A second later they were spread out, a sharp whistle starting their first game.

Sam realized a second too late that the coaches were supposed to play _with _the kids, and that second cost him. A well-thrown dodgeball hit him straight in the chest, making him stumble back a step. He walked off to the "jail", chest smarting. A minute later one of the football players caught a ball and he was back in.

The crowds were going crazy around them. Sam could barely hear the balls whistling towards him with all the noise. He threw a couple over the line, getting one kid out. His team seemed to be following his impromptu plan, lining up in their formations. It was working well, which was a damn miracle.

"They're down to five people," a girl shouted to his left, a smile on her face. Sam threw her a ball and she took a kid out, hammering him so hard across the face even Sam cringed. A second later it was three people. Two. One.

"And the winners of the first preliminary match is the team of Sam Winchesterrrrrrrrrrrr!"

Sam ducked his head as the crowds went wild, feeling sweat drip down his face. "Holy shit."

"Teachers aren't supposed to swear," one football player said as he passed Sam, but he was wearing a wide grin. "Nice job though. That's the first time we passed pre-lims."

"Really?" Sam asked, following him off the court. To the left Gabriel and his team were getting ready, though they looked a special shade of anxious. Dean Smith's team was all the way across the room, and Sam didn't want to look there at all.

"Yeah. I mean, Anna's great and all, but she's not big on throwing hard. Usually gets out and stays there." The guy held out his fist. "Now you gotta take us all the way to the trophy."

Sam fist bumped him and sat down, grabbing a towel from an attendant. This really was a big deal here. They even had Gatorade bottles. "Smith's team is probably going to win, aren't they?"

"Mhm."

"And that means we're going to have to fight them?"

The kid nodded.

"Shit."

As if spilling coffee on the man and pissing him off weren't enough, now Sam's entire street cred with his kids was riding on whether or not he beat Smith at _dodgeball_. A kid's sport. Sam glanced at the other man's team and wasn't surprised by the surplus of tall, muscular guys there. Not a single girl, and no one under 150 pounds.

"Go Gabriel!" He cried as everyone began clapping. The other teams took the court, lining up. Gabriel was shifting from foot to foot, eyes narrowed.

"And we're _off_!"

The whistle was shrill. Sam couldn't believe his eyes as three of Dean's players already had balls, blinking as they chucked them at Gabriel's team. They took three players out immediately, catching them in the chests hard enough to make a loud _thump_ reverberate through the gym. Sam frowned as one kid went down hard and didn't get up immediately. A smaller kid dragged him to the sidelines as another kid took his place. This was unbelieveable.

It was sorry to see, but Gabriel's team was obliterated within five minutes. They left the court limping or heaving or some mixture of both. Gabriel shot Sam the thumbs up anyway, leading his kids over to their spot. Across the gym, Dean Smith's green eyes were watching. Sam turned away, cheeks burning.

"What's the plan, Stan?" Gabriel sat down heavily next to him, the kids who could still move doing the same. "We gotta take down the man, man. Stick it to Mr. Conceited."

Sam looked around at the two dozen faces staring at him, floored. "The plan is...we don't lose?"

"Great, Sam." Gabriel grabbed a water bottle and doused himself in it, catching Sam in the process. "Now we're gonna look like idiots in front of the entire school. Think of something."

"I'm trying."

"Well, think faster. Or I'll invite Becky over here."

Sam glared at him, feeling a fission of fear go through him. "You would _not_."

"And I'll spill water on your shirt so you'll have to take if off." Gabriel's grin was pure evil as he tipped his water bottle Sam's way. "Poor Becky. What do you think she'll do with herself?"

Sam leaned forward, heart thudding. Gabriel just smirked. "Okay, game plan. Same as before, short tall short tall alternation, quick kids in the front. Aim for whatever's closest, not just for the head. Anything about Smith I should know?"

"He's gonna win." Gabriel said with a sigh, promptly getting a smack from Sam. "What? It's _true_."

"You're not exactly helping the mood," Sam chastised, turning back to the kids. They were staring. "What?"

"You guys are the weirdest teachers I've ever seen."

Gabriel stood, smacking Sam on the ass. "That's me and Sammy here. Best, chummy BFFs."

"That doesn't even make se-" Sam cut off as the Vice Principal took the microphone. "Shit."

Gabriel frowned, herding the kids to the court. He saluted Sam cheekily. "Battle stations, everyone!"

"I am so pleased to have everyone gathered at the sixteenth annual Dodgeball Tournament of Champions," Raphael, the VP was saying. "Welcome to the final round! Your semi-finalists are: Sam Winchester's team and the team of Dean Smith!"

Tentative applause sounded for Sam's name (including a few catcalls) but the crowd _roared _for Dean's name. Sam felt of wave of uneasiness overtake him as he stood across from Smith on the court, eyes locking. The other man looked beyond pissed. Sam swore he was _glowering _at him.

The whistle blew and their kids were off, Sam grabbing a ball and hurling it at the most dangerous looking kid in Smith's line up. It hit him in the knee and he went down, shocking Sam most of all. The rest of Smith's team roared, firing back immediately. Sam let himself smile before dodging about seven throws all at once, leaning backwards so far he heard something pop in his back.

"Get them!" Gabriel cried, leaping into the air as he threw a ball half his size. It hit one of the players in the head, but the victory was short lived. A lightning-fast ball from Smith had Gabe on the ground, groaning. Sam glanced around him.

Four players left on each side. It could have been worse, but it was only a good thirty seconds into the game. Sam dodged another few balls, noticing Smith was reluctant to throw at him. Fine. Sam would make him.

Two more kids on his side went out. Sam glanced at his last player and nodded, turning to find Smith with three, tall-ass kids on his side. Sam kept throwing and dodging, throwing and dodging. A small yelp drew his attention to the left; his last player was down and holding their left knee.

Sam dodged a couple throws and ran over to them, grabbing one of the balls in his hand and using it to deflect the passes as he got the kid to his feet and shepherded him to the sidelines. Then he turned to face Smith.

The other man had narrowed his eyes, nostrils flaring. Sam stared back and threw another dodgeball, internally pleased as he struck out one of the kids. Smith kept staring at him, unmoving.

A quick battle between Sam and the last two kids ensued. He jumped straight into the air as two balls screamed his way, dodging both by a hair's breadth. He sent back two balls of his own, catching one man in the shoulder. Alright. Down to one more, then Smith.

The last kid put up a good fight, but Sam was taller and more determined. He got a few more catcalls as the kid finally went down, ignoring them. Becky waved to him from the ref's desk as he backed up, trying to regain his ground. Smith was at the center of the court, toeing the edge of the line. Neither moved.

"And it looks like it's going to come down to our two coaches, Sam Winchester and Dean Smith, and let me tell you, folks, this is the first year that's _ever _happened-"

Sam ignored the announcer and the shouting, eyes narrowing to the ball in his hand. Smith still hadn't moved, exhibiting that kind of careless grace lions had-like they could pounce you any second, but they were going to make you wait.

He didn't like waiting. Sam grabbed the ball in front of him and threw it as hard as he could at Smith. The other man dodged it, taking a step back, but it was close. A quick return followed, so close it made Sam's hair rustle. He spun and ducked as three more balls were sent his way, panicking. A ball appeared in front of him and he grabbed it, throwing it towards Smith. Another miss, but not as far off.

"That was close, folks. Let's see what Winchester will do with that, huh?"

Smith scowled at the mention of his name and only threw harder passes at Sam. He ducked two of them and jumped over the third, grabbing it as it bounced off the wall. He suddenly remembered all of those times in college when he'd put his height to good use, jumping off of walls and doing flips. A part of him was curious…..the wall _seemed _sturdy enough….

His strength was flagging as it was, and Smith seemed unfatigued. With a quick prayer Sam turned his back to Smith, eliciting a few gasps. He grabbed another ball and sprinted full speed for the wall, hoping Smith was confused enough to not throw at him.

Once he reached the wall he jumped and twisted off of it, turning his body in midair. The backflip couldn't have been more perfect. Smith's ball sailed beneath him, like he'd expected Sam to go the other direction. Before his feet even touched the ground he launched off his ball, perhaps his final shot.

It caught Smith square in the chest and dropped to the floor, bouncing away.

The other man looked astounded. Pure shock was written across his face as the entire gymnasium _exploded, _cheering so loud the floor began to vibrate.

Sam took this all in without moving his eyes away from Smith. The other man stared at him, pink lips parting momentarily. Suddenly he scowled and stormed away, disappearing into the crowd just as Gabriel tackled him.

"SA-AM! SA-AM! SA-AM!" The entire gym was chanting. Someone picked him up on their shoulders (a mistake) and suddenly he was ensconced in people. The much coveted trophy was held up to him and he grabbed it, hoisting it high in the air, shocked.

"I can't believe you just did that," Gabriel was repeating in his ear, over and over again. Sam just stared at Smith's retreating figure, hands clenched tightly around the trophy.


End file.
